


Challenge Accepted

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, POV Alternating, Pre-Slash, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - non powered meet cute in a bar with alternating POV.   Tony's still famous and Bucky's still down an arm - Sam and Rhodey unintentionally play matchmaker.   Alcohol (and greasy pub grub) consumption, but not to excess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge Accepted

“Rhodey,” Tony grumbled frustratedly as they stepped onto the sidewalk, “Why are we here? And where is ‘here’, anyways?”

“It’s called Nick’s Place - buddy of mine said I had to check it out next time I was in DC. And we’re here to celebrate the spectacular failure of Obie’s hostile takeover attempt.”

“That was all Pepper’s doing, you know that. She just sends me out in front of the cameras for a little song and dance while she wields the daggers behind the scenes. You should be celebrating with her instead. I just want to go home.” He shot a look back at their towncar.

“Ms. Potts is already on her way to California, then Tokyo. We’ll whoop it up with her when she gets back. C’mon - let’s enjoy a bit of bro time before I have to ship out again.” Tony lurched forward a bit as Rhodes clapped him on the back and ushered him through the door.

It was an unprepossessing place, more a neighborhood pub than the dive bar it had looked from the outside. The note on the chalkboard above the bar piqued his interest: “Take the Hairy Bartender Challenge - ask your server for details.” The various pride flags caught his attention as well.

“I know we’re way past ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’, but I’m surprised your flyboy pal sent you to a place like this,” he murmured. Not that Rhodey would care; he’d put up with Tony’s teenage crush when they were at MIT together and was pleasantly polite to anyone who hit on him, male or female. Tony suspected his best friend was somewhere on the ace spectrum, but hadn’t ever come right out and asked.

“It’s no meat market, if that’s what you’re worried about,” drawled the bouncer, a stocky blond wearing a sleeveless vest, “just a relaxed place for all sorts to hang out. Hey, Maria - got a couple of customers for ya.” A tall brunette with a friendly, yet businesslike look approached them. “Booth or table, gentlemen?”

\------------------

“No, I am not going to ask about the Hairy Bartender Challenge!” Bucky still wasn’t sure how his former patient-advocate-now-friend had talked him into a night out. Sam had been haranguing him via text and email for the better part of the week. “Dude - you’ve had your new arm for over a month and a half now. Your therapy sessions are going well, aren’t they? So get out and live a little!”

Sam had a point; he had become a bit of a hermit, with his trips to the VA and the library being his only excursions out of the apartment (Online grocery delivery was awesome!) The doctors had been okay with him tapering off his meds and the nightmares only woke him up maybe once a week now. Full nights of sleep were becoming almost normal. So he agreed to a Saturday evening excursion.

Sam had a knack for finding the oddest stuff to do -- who knew Washington DC had a skee ball league? Bucky found himself too caught up in the competition to get anxious about being in a crowd. Once the match was over, he and Sam stepped up to the machines. The rhythm of rolling the balls up the ramp calmed his nerves, and his pal’s commentary was, as always, a welcome distraction.

When Sam suggested he try playing left-handed “so I’m not getting my ass completely handed to me, Barnes”, Bucky saw right through his scheme, but went along with it anyways. He had to concentrate to pick the balls up, and had a bit of trouble timing the release, but he managed to at least get them all the way down the lane and sometimes into the 10-point ring. He still sucked at anything that required a reaction time faster than a sloth’s pace -- despite the state of the art biofeedback system of the prosthetic -- but the slow motion toss needed for skee ball was right up his alley, so to speak.

Sam ended up winning the match, and they redeemed their tickets for a couple of comic books. He said they were for his nieces and nephews, but Bucky knew he’d read them first. The guy was a sucker for Captain America. On the cab ride over to Nick’s Place, Sam described the bar as “a cross between Cheers and Ten Forward,” which led them to acting out a conversation as Woody Boyd and Data (and getting odd looks from the driver in the rear view mirror). As they walked in, Bucky realized the description was pretty apt.

The decor was a bit more on the Star Trek side, with flat screens, aluminum railings and LED lighting, but the bar itself was warm wood and polished brass that stretched across the center of the deceptively deep room. Movie posters and art repros hung on the wall - giving the place a bit of a college dorm vibe. They chose a corner booth and studied the menu. It was basic pub grub, and they started off with an order of wings. Bucky had already checked the exits and sight lines (a damn hard habit to break), but now he let his eyes roam more freely.

There was ample evidence, both in decor and clientele that this was a safe space; the number of same sex and het couples being about even. He briefly suspected that Sam had an ulterior motive in bringing him here. Bucky knew there was no way he was ready for even a casual hookup, but decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. Sam had spotted the chalkboard notice above the bar and wouldn’t let it go. He finally waved down their server, and asked about it himself.

“We just started it a few weeks ago,” Jemma answered in a delightful British accent. “You know what a Hairy Buffalo is, right? Basically whatever booze you’ve got on hand plus a mixer. Well, after Leo figured out how to hack our point of sale system to give us real-time stats on what our customers were ordering, Daisy thought it might be fun to offer a special based on the most popular spirits at any given moment. It can be pretty random.”

“Random’s just what we need.” Sam tapped his card on the table. “I volunteer my friend for the Challenge.”

Bucky shot Sam the dirtiest look he could manage as their server whisked him away to the bar.

\--------------------------

“That’s actually a pretty clever idea - basing a special on whatever your clientele is already drinking on any given evening. And if the cocktail turns out decent, you can add it to the menu. Is the POS also linked to the inventory and ordering system for automatic restocking? If not, I’m sure a few tweaks of the code could... ”

“Good lord, Tony - can’t you just relax and let that overworked brain of yours rest? Take the damn challenge. I dare you.”

“Really? What are we - twelve?”

“Pretty much - I triple dog dare you!” Rhodes smiled smugly. He knew perfectly well that Tony wouldn’t back down now.

“Slight breach of etiquette there, platypus, skipping the double, double-dog and triple dares. Fine.” He turned back to their server. “Lead me to the challenge, good maiden.”

“Not that I’m either of those, but follow me,” Maria replied dryly. Tony stood and accompanied her up to the bar, where she gestured to one of two bright blue chairs. The other was already occupied by a young man who would be quite handsome without the scowl and crossed arms. He was staring balefully across the room at his...friend? date? Whoever he was, the guy had a shit-eating grin on his face as he called out “Have fun, Buck!”

“You know, I was hoping for something a bit more risque from the Hairy Bartender Challenge,” Tony commented as he sat down. “Maybe along the lines of a wet t-shirt contest, except with no shirts.” He gave his companion a quick, but thorough, checking out. “You’d have fared well in that competition, I bet.”

That got a derisive snort in reply. “Nah, I don’t do that. At least not anymore.” Before Tony could reply, the bartender -- a tall black man with an eyepatch -- rang a bell that was hanging from the rack of glasses.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. These two brave souls have volunteered for the Hairy Bartender Challenge. They will be consuming -- and presumably keeping down -- a concoction of the most popular spirits of the evening. You have fifteen minutes to screw them over with your orders.” Tony didn’t realize they’d make a production of the damn thing. Shit. He hunched over, glad he still had his sunglasses on. (Yes, Rhodes had already made the requisite Corey Hart reference).

“Not used to being the center of attention, huh?” His seatmate now wore a slight smirk on his face, which Tony found annoyingly attractive.

“A little tired of it, actually,” he responded without really thinking. This, of course, caused the guy to give him a close once over, and his eyes widened. Sighing, Tony added. “Yes, I’m him. Yes, we can do a selfie. No, I can’t give you contact info for the Maxim girls. Besides, the twelve for twelve with them was a bit of an exaggeration.” How much so, he declined to say. Tony had made sure to appear with each of them on his arm at various functions and parties, but only one of them (Ashleigh, was it?) had actually ended up in his bed.

Tony had known he was bi since he hit puberty, but thanks to the internet, he was starting to lean towards the pansexual label, though he still wasn’t quite sure what the difference was. And while he wasn’t officially “out” (heaven forbid the old white guys on the SI Board of Directors should find out he liked dick as well as pussy) he’d managed a few discreet liaisons over the past few years. But it had been a while, and he felt the old familiar stirrings as he looked over the man sitting next to him.

\-----------------------

“Well, since I already know who you are, I s’pose I should introduce myself and thank you. I’m James. James Barnes ... Bucky to my friends.” He put his hand out and Tony Stark shook it, looking a bit bemused.

“Thank me? For what?” Bucky looked up and down the bar, then slid the left sleeve of his shirt up. The silicone skin of the hand held up to casual glances, but he’d had some work done on the wrist joint just the other day and the patch stood out from its surroundings.

“Huh - that’s the T-600, right? It gets the job done, but it’s old hat now. We’re testing the 725’s now - much better response times and improved elastomer skin. You ought to get into our beta program.” Stark’s eyes had lit up when he saw the prosthetic; Bucky wasn’t used to that kind of reaction at all. Pity mixed with a bit of revulsion was the typical response from strangers. Sam had taken it in stride - but men and women with missing limbs (and worse) were an everyday occurrence for him.

As for Steve - well, that had been a struggle. Bucky still didn’t understand why his best friend felt guilty over what had happened. He was thousands of miles away at the time, for one thing. Yes, maybe Bucky had joined up after Steve and Peggy got engaged, but it wasn’t just about jealousy rearing its ugly head. He’d really wanted to serve his country, especially now that he could, without fear of being discharged if (or when) his orientation became public knowledge.

But that was all in the past. Steve and Peggy were enjoying newlywed bliss up in Brooklyn and between recovering from his injuries and money being tight on both sides, he’d only seen them a couple of times since he’d gotten back. Bucky was pulled from his reverie by another announcement from the bartender, who, according to his name tag, was probably the owner as well.

“Time’s up folks. Let’s see what alcoholic hell you have consigned tonight’s victims to.” The flat screen behind the bar lit up, and as the numbers were tallied by the computer system, a bar graph appeared on the screen. Rum and vodka were nearly tied, with tequila, amaretto and gin rounding out the top five.

“You got lucky,” Maria commented. “Last week we were part of an embassy pub crawl and our challenger had to consume an unholy mix that included ouzo, slivovitz and sake. He kept it down, but we had to pour the kid into a cab after getting his home address off his ID.” She pointed to the Challengers board, where the name “Wade W” was scrawled somewhat shakily.

“Top shelf or well?” Nick briskly asked. Considering the price difference, Bucky went with the cheap house brands. He assumed that Stark would spring for the pricey stuff, but surprisingly enough, he just gestured to Bucky, saying “Same”. They both watched as Nick poured generous shots of each.

“Pick your mixer, boys,” he stated. Bucky figured ginger ale might counteract the potential for queasiness, and Stark asked for the sour mix, and an umbrella.

“Ours not to reason why,” he tipped his glass in salute.

“Ours but to do and die.” Bucky completed the slightly-reworded quote. Damned if Stark wasn’t almost exactly his type; dark hair, on the wiry side, and those expressive brown eyes. He had a weakness for older men and Steve had always teased him about finding a sugar daddy. That thought drove him to take a healthy drink, which was a mistake. Bucky unsuccessfully stifled a gasping cough. The gin and amaretto definitely weren’t playing well together, and the rest of the liquors burned going down.

\--------------------------

“A bit too much for you, sunshine?” The endearment slipped out before Tony could stop it. He couldn’t even blame it on the damned drink - he’d barely tasted it. But not only was James even more attractive once the scowl was gone, he’d recognized the literary allusion. Always been a sucker for brains and good looks combined, Tony thought.

“This is awful,” James spluttered. He then yelled across the room, “I hate you Sam Wilson. I hate you forever.” Thankfully, it seemed the drink itself had distracted him from Tony’s slip of the tongue.

“Aw, Buckeroo. You’re breaking my heart,” James’ companion replied, shaking his head and laughing. Tony’s heart sank - of course all the good ones were taken.

“So, your boyfriend put you up to this?” he said to James, taking another sip to hide his chagrin. He was right - the concoction was pretty dire.

“What?” came the startled reply. “No, Sam’s just a friend, and straight, besides. He was my case worker and we became pals.”

“Case worker?”

“Yeah, I was kind of a mess when I got shipped back and didn’t want friends or family around. Sam took their place and is helping me get my act together.” James said quietly, dropping his head to stare at the bar.

Tony didn’t know what to do with that information. He should have guessed that James was a vet, with the prosthetic arm and all. “You seem pretty together to me. So.... you come here often?” He threw out the cheesy pickup line on purpose, hoping to lighten the mood, as well as test the waters. It earned him a skeptically raised eyebrow, but a smile as well. He took that as a good sign.

“Nope, never been here before. But I keep expecting to see Guinan or maybe Coach behind the bar, ya know?” That seemed to break the ice, as they started discussing classic 80’s television shows. Tony tried hard not to think about how James had only ever seen them in re-runs or more probably online somewhere - the kid probably wasn’t even born when most of these shows came out. Contrary to his public persona, Tony was generally wary of so much of an age difference, but James didn’t act like a twenty-something, and Tony found himself even more intrigued.

“Barkeep - is it bending the rules to have something to eat during the challenge? This much booze on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster.” In reply to Tony’s question, Maria held out a menu. He hesitated, pulling his hands back half-subconsciously ... that stupid quirk of his rearing its ugly head. James took the menu instead, angling it so they both could peruse the list.

After she left to check on her other customers, James gave Tony an assessing look and asked. “So what was that about?”

“The menu? Um - I don’t like being handed things. I’m fine if someone sets whatever it is down first, like the drink. I know it’s weird and I can usually get past it, but it’s worse when I’m stressed.” James simply nodded and Tony was relieved he didn’t ask the obvious question. “I’m thinking a platter of nacho cheese fries is just the thing to soak up this hellbrew we let ourselves be talked into imbibing. Want to split it?”

\------------------------------

This wasn’t happening, Bucky thought. There was no way that Tony Stark, the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist himself, had just offered to share a plate of greasy bar food with him. And quite possibly had been flirting as well, tho he suspected that was just wishful thinking.

“Why not - let us consume mass quantities.” And the exchange of pop culture references was off and running. Saturday Night Live, Monty Python and Princess Bride were givens, but Bucky went a bit more obscure after Stark threw out, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

"The word ‘inconceivable’ is not in my dictionary. In fact everything from ‘herring’ to ‘marmalade’ seems to be missing."

Stark blinked. “Okay - did not expect a Dirk Gently quote out of you. _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ , maybe... but you obviously know your Douglas Adams.” He tipped his glass to Bucky and took another drink. Bucky returned the salute and did the same. The spicy cheese on the fries had somehow mellowed out the war between the gin and amaretto, and before Bucky knew it, both the drink and the snack were gone.

“This is certainly not how I expected to spend the evening, but I have no complaints,” Stark said. Bucky tried very hard not to stare as the man wiped up the last of the cheese sauce from the plate and absent-mindedly licked his finger. His already overactive imagination was going to have a field day with that later.

“Think you’ll be able to say the same in the morning?” Bucky replied - suspecting he’d have at least a touch of a hangover. With the meds he’d been on when he first came back, alcohol was definitely contra-indicated, so his tolerance had dropped considerably.

“Why, do you want to be there to find out?”

Bucky was taken aback. Okay- that was definitely flirting. Quite possibly propositioning. But this was Tony freaking Stark here - the king of “Never to be Taken Seriously”. He’d seen the guy plant a big smooch on Elon Musk’s cheek, for chrissake - even if it was perhaps a Bugs-Bunny-esque taunt rather than anything friendly. He opted with responding in kind: “Depends ... got any etchings you want me to see, mister?.”

“Way to channel your grandparents there - that reference is older than you and me combined, sweetheart. But since you asked.... hey Rhodey!” Stark called across the room, “Do I have any etchings in the penthouse? I can’t remember what I’ve got on the walls at the moment. ”

And that was the second time Stark had casually thrown out an endearment in his direction, Bucky thought. Is is just part of the show, or was he really being flirted with? When in doubt, keep gathering intel.

A black guy with a military bearing had come over to join them. “Do I look like your personal art curator, Tones? That’s Pepper’s job, among all the other plates she keeps spinning for you.” He turned to Bucky and held out his hand. “Jim Rhodes. Don’t judge me by the company I keep.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, sourpatch,” Stark interrupted. “You know you love me - we have a bromance for the ages.” Bucky introduced himself to Rhodes, and waved Sam over. Sam played it cool as Bucky introduced him to Tony Stark, but then he noticed the Air Force veteran ring that Rhodes wore and the two men were quickly sharing stories of their time in the service.

“So, where were we?” Stark asked. “Swapping ancient pick up lines, if I recall correctly. If it’s my turn, I’m going with ‘heaven must be missing an angel’.”

“I’ll see that line and raise with a ‘You must be exhausted because you’ve been running through my mind all night’.” This kind of flirting Bucky could do; never mind if there were more than a bit of the truth in that statement.

“Damn, I was going to use that next! Okay, how about, ‘If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?’” Stark couldn’t quite keep a straight face, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Good, good ... let me respond with ‘where have you been all my life, gorgeous?’”

\----------------------

Tony bit back the urge to respond, “About two decades ahead of you, unfortunately.” He really liked James - he was funny, smart and damned attractive, now that he was at ease. And the kid didn’t seem to care at all who he was; Tony wasn’t used to that at all. Most people he met wanted the Tony Stark Experience thanks to the internet and the tabloids. He knew what to expect and how to respond to that situation. Whatever was going on here, tonight, with James? It was something he hadn’t done in a long time, and hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“Earth to Mister Stark, come in Mister Stark... “ James tapped him on the arm.

“First off, Mr. Stark was my dad. I'm Tony. Second, it’s just... like I said, I was not expecting to be enjoying myself this much tonight.”

“I heard that,” Rhodes interrupted. “So you admit I actually have good ideas sometimes, Tony?”

“I admit nothing. You got lucky for once, Rhodey.”

Rhodes leaned in towards Tony. “Speaking of getting lucky... should I plan on heading out of here solo?” Damn, was it that obvious? “He seems like a good guy.”

“Just playing it by ear, honeybear,” he murmured back. At the very least, it was nice to be flirted with so undemandingly. Rhodes winked at him, then returned to his chat with James’ friend, Sam.

“Well, gentlemen, congratulations!” Nick had returned to their spot at the bar. “You seem to have survived our little challenge. Feel free to put your names on the board. Can I get you anything else?” Tony watched James settle up. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place, he thought.

“Hey, James - want to go get a coffee? Or something other than nacho cheese fries?” He was pleased at how casual his voice sounded.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” James responded, with a surprisingly shy smile. “And call me Bucky. Hey, Sam, you still gonna be here, or should I find my own way home?”

“I’m about ready to call it a night. Be good, Buck - and if you can’t be good, be careful.” Sam grinned back, but as his eyes flicked to Tony, there was a definite warning look. Tony nodded slightly in return. He wasn’t planning on doing anything stupid, despite feeling some aftereffects from the challenge.

James gallantly held the door for Tony, waving him out with an exaggerated bow, then holding out his arm. “Tony, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“And what are your thoughts on friendship with benefits?” Tony replied, taking James' arm and leaning in close. 


End file.
